


Jeeves and Bertie Go Up to Downton

by ricketybridge



Category: Downton Abbey, Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Crossover, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-14 23:10:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14779070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricketybridge/pseuds/ricketybridge
Summary: Aunt Agatha sends Bertie to woo Lady Edith Crawley at Downton Abbey, where he encounters even more drama than he is accustomed to.Takes place during season/series 5 ofDownton Abbey.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Jeeves and the Inferior Valet, or, Thomas and the Kindest Man in England](https://archiveofourown.org/works/509440) by [Alex51324](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex51324/pseuds/Alex51324). 



“Bertie,” Aunt Agatha proclaimed stentoriously over the ’phone. I’m not quite sure what ‘stentorious’ means, but it sounds like something Aunt A. would be. “I have found the only remaining unmarried woman in England who has not already been engaged to you.”

“I say, aged a.,” I protested, “there are surely dozens, if not hundreds—”

“The Dowager Countess of Grantham informs me that her granddaughter has lately returned to Yorkshire from Switzerland, and this young lady has everything you would want in a girl.”

“Does she? Like what?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you want in a girl. But whatever it is, she’s got it.”

And with that rather unconvincing selling point, the last of the Woosters was shipped up to Yorkshire to woo Lady Edith Crawley.

Jeeves and I began plotting as soon as we got on the train. 

“I took the liberty of making a few discreet inquiries at the Junior Ganymede Club about the lady and her family, sir. I discovered that it is well known that her father, Lord Grantham, harbours a virulent abhorrence of Socialism—even more so than most members of his class. I believe that if you spoke highly of that philosophy, he would forbid the match entirely.”

“Excellent, Jeeves! But er… why is it exactly that so many people hate Socialism? I socialise all the time and I’ve never seen anything wrong with it.”

“‘Socialism,’ sir, is a political belief that holds that inequality of wealth in society is a great evil, and that it is necessary for the government to redistribute property more evenly.”

“Ah, that chappie. I suppose I know which side you fall on the matter, what with your feudal spirit.”

“Indeed, sir.”

“But it sounds rather a lot like charity, doesn’t it? I thought charity was meant to be a good thing.”

“That is precisely the sort of sentiment I recommend expressing to Lord Grantham, sir, should the topic arise.”

“Right-ho, Jeeves.”

Jeeves dished out several other brilliant ideas, such that by the time we landed in Yorkshire, the y.m. was ready to present himself in such a manner that was sure to be detestable to Edith and utterly ineligible for a son-in-law to the pater.

Edith turned out to be precisely as moony-eyed over her gentleman caller as I feared she might. However, armed with Jeeves’s counsel, I felt confident that our turn about the grounds would not end with her gushing about stars and bunny rabbits. 

“I’ve heard you’ve written for a ladies’ magazine,” Edith said as she led the way down a meandering path. 

I chuckled in feigned embarrassment. I was dashed proud of my knowledgable article on ‘What the Well-Dressed Man is Wearing,’ but Edith had recently become the owner of a magazine much like my aunt Dahlia’s, and Jeeves had advised that it would be sensible for me to be dismissive of such endeavours. “Oh, that silly thing. I only wrote it because my aunt Dahlia asked me to, and, as you know, when an aunt asks for a favour, one does not say no.”

“That was very kind of you.”

“What? No! It wasn’t kind at all. Just trying to save my own skin, really.”

“Well, I think it’s lovely.”

We came to a bench beneath the gently arching branches of a tree. It was, of course, just the stuff to provoke a beazel into gazing into a cove’s e.’s. I scanned the horizon for a less picturesque locale, but there was none to be seen. The entire place was dripping with romantic scenery. 

Edith took a seat on the bench, leaving plenty of space for the Wooster corpus, but I took care to only lean jauntily against the end opposite her. “I say, how is Mary?” I asked. Jeeves had informed me that Edith and her sister Mary had a bitter rivalry stemming back from before the Titanic, and that the mere mention of Mary could send Edith into a frothing rage. I had met Mary once or twice before, so I knew Edith couldn’t be entirely blamed for the ancient feud. I will gladly admit that Mary’s profile is more than acceptably corking, but I had learned to give that particular Crawley a wide berth, lest her jaws bite or claws catch. 

Right on cue, Edith rolled her eyes. “She’s fine. She’s obsessed with pigs now apparently.”

“Pigs?”

“Yes. She’s playacting as Downton’s manager nowadays and talks of nothing but our farmers’ pigs.”

“That’s rather odd. I mean,” I said, quickly backpedaling, “that is to say, she’s got a good head on her shoulders, so I’m sure there must be something to it.”

Edith scoffed. This was going swimmingly. “A good head on her shoulders? Mary? She’s—” She forced a smile onto her face. “Sorry. I mustn’t complain when it’s such a beautiful day.” 

“Complain away!” I said. “I don’t mind.”

Edith tittered a laugh. “Oh, Bertie. It’s so good of you to indulge me. My family certainly never does.” She came over to link arms with me and launched into the continuation of our walk. “Let me show you our Grecian ruins.”

She led me, like a lamb to slaughter, to an inexplicable row of Grecian columns that appeared to have never had any purpose except, perhaps, to serve as backdrop to a gentleman’s passionate proposal to a lady. She remained indefatigable in parrying my continued efforts to disparage magazines and gush about Mary, and by the time we returned to the house, Bertram Wilberforce Wooster was as good as engaged.

“I say, Jeeves,” I said as Jeeves shoved me into white tie, “I went on about all the things you recommended and I daresay the filly still ended up anointing me the future Mr. Lady Edith Crawley.”

“That is most unfortunate, sir. However, I believe that you have nevertheless laid groundwork that may ultimately come to its desired fruition over the course of the week.”

“If you say so, Jeeves. I can only trust that you’ve seen five hundred steps ahead with that fish-fed brain of yours.”

“I hope I have, sir.”

As we went in to dinner, I was introduced to the Dowager Countess herself. She looked every inch an aunt. It was no surprise that she and Aunt A. were friends. She fixed a fiery eye upon the Wooster map for several pendulous moments.

“I suppose you’ll do,” she finally declared, and thereupon marched into the dining room.

“So, Bertie,” the Earl of Grantham said over the first course. “Edith tells me you’re a writer?”

“Er, not much of one yet, I’m afraid. But I am in the middle of writing a really topping Socialist tract.”

Everyone looked at me in silent horror. The earl attempted to cover his reaction with a polite smile. “Is that so? I wouldn’t have pegged you as a leftist.”

“Oh, I’m right-handed, as it happens. I only feel it’s high time the poor stopped being poor, what?”

“It’s rather more complicated than that, I’m afraid,” the earl said.

“Well, I’m the first to admit I have difficulty with complicated subjects,” I said. “It’s well known that I’m rather mentally negligible.”

“Oh, good, you’re perfect for Edith,” Mary said.

Edith leveled an icy glare at her, then turned to self. “Bertie, did you drive up here?”

“No, I took the train. I only have a two-seater. It’s a jolly thing to wheeze about to my aunt Dahlia’s pile in Market Snodsbury and whatnot, but it’s not the stuff for longer drives.”

“Oh, is it not very safe?” Edith said with a peculiar, tight smile.

“No, it’s perfectly safe. Well, as safe as any car, I suppose—”

There was a deliberate clink of a fork being set down hard on a plate. “How could you?” Mary said. She smoldered at Edith from across the table. 

Edith looked back at Mary with wide, innocent eyes. Everyone else was glancing shiftily at each other, as if someone had just run through the room completely starkers. 

The Dowager Countess brought up the weather.


	2. Chapter 2

“I say, Jeeves, this family is far too melodramatic for me,” I said as Jeeves bunged me out of the soup-and-fish and into the jimmy-jams. 

“If I may say, sir, the downstairs is much the same. The butler and the under-butler nearly came to blows over dinner.”

“This is not the family one could sensibly wish to marry into, Jeeves, corking profile or no.”

“I quite agree, sir.”

“And do you know the strangest thing? One of the men at dinner used to be the chauffeur.”

“I have been informed as much, sir.”

“It’s enough to make one think that the earl may not in fact be as averse to Socialism as he lets on.”

“There may be something in what you say, sir.”

“I suppose you don’t approve of former chauffeurs dining with earls’ families, do you?”

“It is most irregular, sir.”

“Am I to understand that if you found yourself with a pile of money you would not condescend to grace my table?” 

“On the contrary, sir. I should be honoured. However, I would never expect to receive such an invitation.”

“That is where you err, Jeeves. I would have invited you to my table ages ago even sans pile of money if I thought for a moment that you would have accepted.”

“That is very kind of you, sir.”

I looked at Jeeves in surprise. “Then you’ll agree to dine with me when we return to London?” I asked, hoping against hope.

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

“Really, Jeeves,” I said, buttoning my shirt with emphasis, “your feudal spirit has served you well, but it can be dashed irritating at times.”

“I am sorry, sir,” he said, looking his stuffed froggiest.

The residents of country houses, as you may know, awaken frightfully early. I suppose it has something to do with keeping in spirit with all the farmers and cows that surround the place. At any rate, that is how I found myself in my tweeds at nearly the crack of dawn, yawning down the staircase. The activity of the day was the town fair, and the blasted thing was to start at ten in the ack-emma.

Edith immediately swooped down upon me for another turn about the scenery. 

“Say, Bertie,” she said, “I don’t suppose you would be inclined to help me with something, would you?”

This did not bode well. But the Code of the Woosters demands that I help a damsel in need. “I’m not much of a help in most things,” I said, “but I suppose I could try.”

“Wonderful. It’s really quite simple. You see, Mary will be giving a speech right after mine at the fair, next to the barn that holds all the pigs. I only thought, given how much she loves pigs these days, it would only be right for them to be on display during her speech.”

“Sounds sensible,” I said. “Why don’t you suggest that she have a real prize-winner beside her?”

“Oh, I couldn’t suggest anything to Mary. She would only do the opposite out of spite. That’s why I thought you could slip into the barn and drive out the pigs whilst she’s giving her speech.” 

There was a dashed rummy smile on Edith’s face. Bertram W. Wooster is not the sharpest hook in the tackle box, but it was clear to me that this plan was not a sisterly favour, but vengeance. Driving a stampede of pigs into Mary would almost certainly cause nothing but havoc of the most humiliating kind. Luckily, my refusal to engage in such mischief was sure to result in self being placed firmly out of Edith’s good graces.

“Won’t that distress Mary terribly?” I said.

“Oh, I should think she’ll be mortified,” Edith said with a sort of fervour.

“Then I couldn’t possibly do it,” I said. “If your father found out I was responsible for such a thing, he would throw me out on my ear, and probably on a few other things besides.” 

“But he would never know! You can slip out of the back of the barn after it’s done and no one will be the wiser.”

“I’m sorry, Edith, but years of pinching policeman’s helmets and pulling fire alarms has taught me that someone always becomes the wiser.”

Edith pouted. ‘Aha,’ I thought. Now she would surely free me from her matrimonial yoke. But she said: “I suppose you’re right. You’re such a very good person, you know that, Bertie?”

It was all I could do not to groan aloud. I felt a sudden kinship with that Tantalus fellow. 

Edith resumed chattering away. “Have you met my daugh— I mean, my ward yet? She’s looking forward to the fair ever so much....”

Jeeves clearly had to be consulted about the sitch once more. Before everyone was to leave for the fair, I gave an excuse to retreat to my room with Jeeves and dished out all.

A moment later, there was a soft movement of air, as if an elderly ram atop a Swiss alp had politely snorted into a handkerchief.

“You’ve got an idea, Jeeves?”

“I have, sir, but I believe it would be best for all concerned if I did not apprise you of it.”

“Very well, Jeeves. I trust you with my life.”


	3. Chapter 3

Edith, who was to give the opening remarks of the fair, stepped onto a small dais in front of a swelling crowd of townsfolk.

“Thank you all so much,” she began, “for coming to the Ripon Annual Fair,” and so on and so forth, thanking people and whatnot. I was standing by a small band that had been playing jolly country songs before Edith started, with Jeeves close at hand.

Suddenly, a great bellowing and scraping emanated from a barn right by the dais as Edith had described. The doors burst open, letting forth an absolute avalanche of hogs. The townsfolk leapt back from the stampede, but as it was aimed right at the dais, Edith had no time to dodge them. She squealed as they streamed past her, knocking her this way and that, provoking the audience into gales of laughter. I observed Mary in the midst of the crowd, well away from the barn, looking quite amused.

Two burly coves plucked Edith out of the onslaught before she could succumb. Several of the townsfolk started corralling the wayward pigs and driving them towards the barn.

Edith emerged from the fray with her shoes and the bottom of her dress covered in mud. As soon as she caught sight of me, her face burned red-hot. “Bertie! You rotten thing!”

The earl, who was standing nearby, arched surprised, condemning eyebrows at self. 

I shrugged, spluttering. “I had nothing to do with it!”

“You’re the only one I told,” Edith said. “Do you really expect me to believe Mary came up with the same idea all on her own?”

“Of course you would blame me,” Mary said, rolling her eyes.

“Edith,” Lord Grantham said, “are you saying you intended to do this to Mary?”

“And why not, after all she’s done to me?” Edith exclaimed.

“Then I’m afraid you rather brought this on yourself,” Lord Grantham said.

Edith pursed her trembling lips. “Bertie, you may disabuse yourself of the notion that I would even consider marrying you. I suppose you’re in love with Mary like everyone else anyway. Although I’ve never understood how anyone could be in love with someone so incessantly cruel!” She burst into tears and ran off to destinations unknown.

“Mary,” the earl said condemningly.

“Oh, please,” Mary said. “I wouldn’t have risked losing even one pig for a prank on _Edith_. Not after all the trouble I’ve gone to for them.”

“Very well,” the earl sighed. “Let’s make sure they’re all accounted for.”

Jeeves and I walked back to the house instead of taking the car with the others. I rather needed a good walk after all that.

“Well, Jeeves, I suppose you were in fact somehow responsible for the pigs?” I said.

Jeeves coughed lightly. “I admit I must indeed take some responsibility for the incident, sir,” he said. “After you told me of Lady Edith’s plan, I took the liberty of informing Lady Mary’s maid, who, I imagine, relayed the information to Lady Mary out of a concern for her safety.”

“And I assume Mary roped a member of the staff into driving the pigs out of the barn?”

“I only have suspicions in that regard, sir, but that is my assumption as well.”

“Excellent work, Jeeves. You may, of course, select any article you like from my wardrobe for extinction.”

“Thank you, sir. I have already taken the liberty.”

“I see. I suppose the plaid braces are now with us only in spirit?”

“I’m afraid so, sir.”

“Ah, well. It is but a small sacrifice in the name of such exemplary service.”

“Thank you, sir.”


	4. Chapter 4

Shortly after we arrived back at the house, I announced that I was leaving earlier than expected—a pronouncement that did not appear to cause distress in any of the members of the household—and soon Jeeves and I were safely tucked in a private compartment on the train.

“In the spirit of gentlemanly rivalry,” I said, “what was your professional assessment of the earl’s valet, if I may ask?”

“I found him lacking in some ways, sir, but in general, he appeared to be most competent.” 

“Competent! Not exactly a ringing endorsement, Jeeves.” 

“My standards are quite high, sir.” 

“So they are. I must say, there’s something thrilling about having a valet who is leagues above an earl’s.”

“That is most kind of you, sir.”

“And what of the butler and the under-butler? Did they ever end up taking to fisticuffs?”

Jeeves coughed. “No, sir. I’m afraid the under-butler is no longer employed at Downton Abbey.”

“I say! What happened?”

“He was caught in the act of attempting to cause the butler to fall head-first down the kitchen stairs.”

“Good heavens! That was a lucky thing he was discovered in time. I— Jeeves.... You didn’t happen to have a hand in that timely discovery, did you?”

Jeeves coughed again. I was beginning to fear that the blighter was coming down with consumption. “I confess, sir, that I had a conversation with the under-butler that left me concerned as to his intentions, and I informed the relevant parties.”

“Dashed white of you, Jeeves. But how am I only hearing of this now? It’s a rather sensational bit of downstairs drama, yet no one breathed a word of it.”

“I presume that the residents of Downton neglected to mention it in order to prevent another rumour regarding their ill-fated staff from reaching the general public.”

“ _Another_ rumour? Do you mean to tell me there are others?”

“Several, sir.”

I sighed. “Jeeves. Let’s never go back there again.”

“Very good, sir.”


End file.
